


in between city walls

by dead sea (teenagefgt)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blogger Castiel, Daddy Cas, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Human Castiel, I Swear A Lot, Lost dreams, M/M, Mechanic Dean, One Night Stands, Protective Castiel, actually bless casthewise for letting me write this, and rough sex, and searching for love, and that leaks into my writing, cas has no idea how to raise a child, castiel has a really big alcohol tolerance, cute kisses, im loving this already, so be prepared for a lot of profanity, travelling the world is his shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9222653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagefgt/pseuds/dead%20sea
Summary: Inspired by a post written by casthewise.tumblr.com (bless your soul)When I find that post again, I'll link it!~After Castiel Novak earned his bachelor's degree and finished university, he decided to take a year off. That year off (it eventually turned into six years) included travelling the world, three-star hotels, crappy food at 3am, pretty boys that don't stay and pretty girls that stay too long. It included learning to play the guitar in Rome, befriending the Russian Mafia in Moscow, learning to speak French and getting lost in Berlin. It included maps he couldn't read, plane rides he was getting sick of, city smog and cobble brick roads. And he never wanted it to end.But it all ended the day he got a phone call from Kansas City General Hospital, telling him something he hoped to never hear.His life was the perfect fast-paced, passionate dream that he didn't know he needed. Always moving, always discovering, always seeking. And it came to a screeching halt all too quickly.





	1. city sick

The best thing that had happened to Castiel so far was finally earning his Bachelor's degree in history.

Well, that wasn't the only degree that he earned while attending university for 4 years, but it was the only one that really mattered to him. History was always the most fascinating topic to him. He would always spew out random facts about random things at random times. People would eventually get annoyed. His fun facts about ancient Egypt and any famous serial killer that could be thought of weren't necessarily small talk material.

He tried to avoid that kind of talk when his twin brother, Jimmy, took him out for drinks to celebrate graduating.

Amelia and Jimmy Novak took him to his favourite bar and opened a tab, settling at a table in the corner.

Castiel watched with a fond expression on his face as his twin gave Amelia a kiss on the cheek and went off to get them each a drink. Sliding out of their jackets, Amelia looked over at Castiel, smiling and said, "I am so proud of you."

With a grin, Castiel leaned back against his chair and sighed, "Thanks, Amy."

"I wish I would have had the same motivation as you." her eyes glazed over with longing as she said that, and Castiel couldn't hold back a small chuckle.

"Gosh, no. I almost dropped out so many times. The professors were insufferable, the classes were dragging and I almost failed everything last year. It was almost impossible to hold onto the motivation to stick it through to the end."

Amelia threw her head back and laughed, "I remember all too fondly. At least you stuck with it, unlike me. I dropped out after one term."

Castiel shrugged, "It's not for everyone. Nothing to be ashamed of."

At that moment, Jimmy scooted onto the chair beside his girlfriend and plopped three drinks on the table, sliding them across to Amelia and Castiel. He picked up his glass with a huge grin directed to his twin brother and said, "Here's to actually doing something with his life! Congrats, Castiel. I am so happy for you."

The three of them clinked glasses and Castiel had never felt more accomplished than in that moment.

After taking a few sips from his drink, Jimmy pursed his lips and looked over at Castiel, "So," he started, tilting his head slightly with a thoughtful expression, "What are you going to do now?"

That was a good question, really. Castiel had thought about that quite often during his four years at school, and he never really could think of what type of job his degrees would land him. He has a part time job right now, and a lot of money saved up from the five years of working there, but he wanted to do something more than be a waiter at a small diner downtown. That's _why_ he went to university.

His pale blue eyes glazed over as he thought, and eventually, he sighed and said, "I think I'm going to travel. See all the things that I studied, you know? The pyramids, Stonehenge, the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower. Yeah." he nodded to himself, as if accepting that as a good answer.

A small smile played on his lips as he drummed his fingers against his drink, still thinking out loud, "I'll take a gap year and do that, then come back and maybe go back to school. There's still so many courses that were so intriguing, you know? But a year off would be a good break."

Across the table, Castiel watched as Amelia reached over and linked her fingers with Jimmy's, and he watched as Jimmy's thumb mindlessly stroked the back of her hand. His breath caught in his throat for a second, and he looked up at the two of them. Amelia had her chapped lips wrapped around the straw of her drink and Jimmy was gazing at Castiel with an unreadable expression. They instinctively leaned towards each other, and their chests rose and fell in perfect sync.

Maybe while travelling Castiel would find a love as pure as theirs.

"That sounds like a great plan, Castiel." Amelia finally said as she put her drink down, "You probably have more than enough saved up for such a trip."

It helped that a few months prior to this, Jimmy and Castiel's father had passed away and left them with massive inheritances. He doesn't like to think of that money, because he would rather have his father than the inheritance but what else would he put half a million toward?

Jimmy and Castiel may come from a intensely wealthy family, but Castiel always wanted to earn his own way through life. He wanted to achieve his goals without the help of his family name. Jimmy was the opposite, and eventually took over their father's company when their father retired.

Yeah, he's going to travel. He _needs_ to travel. He didn't even know how badly he wanted to _see_ everything until the idea of travelling came to him. The idea of it suddenly consumed him, gripped his soul with an iron fist and squeezed the breath out of him.

Now, he just has to figure out where he will travel to first.

Before he knew it, the three of them were done their drinks and Jimmy got three shots of tequila for them with an exclamation of celebration. 

Then, it turned into three shots of tequila and another drink.

Suddenly, it was 12:30 am and Amelia was considerably drunk. She was small, her tolerance for drinking was a lot lower than Jimmy and Castiel's.

After a bit of pouting, and a lot of whining, Amelia accepted that she was cut off and Jimmy got another round of shots for Castiel and himself.

Around 1 am, Jimmy called a cab for him and Amelia and Castiel called one for himself. As they waited outside for the cab's, among lingering cold and the smell of stale cigarettes, Jimmy turned to his brother and gave him a huge bear hug.

"Don't be a stranger, okay? Call me, email me, skype me, I don't care. But if you go on this big trip - " Jimmy hiccuped and leaned back, his hands gripping Castiel's shoulders tightly, "- you better stay in touch. You're my brother."

A huge grin broke across Castiel's face and he laughed, "You know I'll never cut you out. I'll email you every day about what I'm doing. I'll send you pictures and everything."

Dramatically, Jimmy took one of his hands and held a finger up in front of Castiel's face. A shadow fell across his face as he looked Castiel in the eyes, the most serious expression Castiel had ever seen his brother wear. Then, he poked Castiel so hard in the center of his chest, he almost lost his balance, and said, "You better."

At that moment, two cab's pulled up and Jimmy backed up and waved them over.

Amelia gave Castiel a kiss on the cheek and waved as Jimmy ushered her into the cab.

As they drove off, Castiel crawled into the cab he called and gave his address.

He was already on his phone, looking up flights for tomorrow. Castiel had no idea how badly he wanted to get out of the city until he thought of travelling the world. He'll be damned if he wait another day. He'll book a flight the moment he get's to his apartment.

He spent the rest of the drive home staring out the window, wondering if it'll be the last time he'll see his city bathed in the night.


	2. the airport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short i'm sorry it's kind of just a filler i guess???

The airport wasn't as busy as Castiel had expected it to be.

There was a mother sitting off in a corner alone, cradling her sobbing child to her chest. There was a family of eight whispering quietly to each other by the luggage pick up, all looking frantic and exhausted. There were half a dozen employee's scattered around, all looking bored and tired. There were the people boarding the same plane as Castiel, tossing off their luggage and moving on.

Castiel wandered through the airport, a look of confusion painted on his face.

He knew he wanted to travel, he just wasn't sure how he was going to feel about plane rides.

After buying his ticket, he settled down in a chair beside a window. He had almost three hours before departure and his nerves were getting the better of him.

When his phone rang, blaring out an obnoxious, default tune, Castiel nearly jumped out of his seat. He stared at his phone for a second, muting the ringer and biting his lip. After a moment, he tilted his head back, releasing a deep breath from the bottom of his chest and answered the phone while staring at the looming ceiling.

"What the fuck? Where are you?" 

"Hey, Jimmy."

"What happened to coming over for dinner? Gabriel was excited to see you again."

Castiel could hear muffled talking in the background of the phone call and the distinct laugh that belonged to his cousin, "Why? So he could bully me all night?"

"Well, obviously." A low chuckle.

A small, sad smile graced Castiel's lips and he sighed, "I guess I forgot. Sorry, Jimmy. I won't be able to make it."

When Castiel finally got off the phone with his brother, he dropped his phone onto his lap and rubbed his hands over his face. He drew in a shaky breath and held it, trying to steady his nerves and his trembling hands.

Truth is, he can't tell his family what he's doing. He would love too, but Jimmy is kind of judgmental and Amelia would be mad for just fucking off without saying bye. Maybe, after he's settled down, he'll call up his brother and go "Hey! Guess where I am! Yeah, I'm in Paris! See you in a year."

Who knows how that will go.

The only person who he could have maybe told was Gabriel because he did the same thing. He fucked off for a few months and traveled to a few different countries. He'd understand the need for something new like Castiel is feeling right now. The chances of Gabriel telling everyone in their family, though - well, that's a chance Castiel wasn't willing to take quite yet.

After a long, nerve-wracking wait, Castiel boarded his plane and started out on a whole new life.


	3. Marseille, France

It was three in the morning and Castiel was sitting in a shitty diner with a burnt cup of coffee and a french dictionary and his laptop in front of him. He's been in France for about a week now and he's found that learning the language on his own is a lot more difficult than he could've anticipated.

The lights flickered overhead as the rain outside grew steadily heavier and Castiel leaned back against the booth he was sitting in. His shoulders slumped and his head fell back against the worn leather of the seat. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the clouds and catching Castiel's eye. He's never experienced a storm like this back in Kansas.

The bell above the door dinged as someone walked in, and Castiel tilted his head in the direction of the entrance.

A young man was shaking out his pale blonde hair as the door slammed shut behind him. He was absolutely soaked to the bone and his bony fingers raked through his hair as a ragged sigh escaped his throat. Castiel's eyes followed the man for a moment, entranced by him.

He had an angular face and a tall, lanky frame. His nose was small and littered in freckles and his eyes were the warmest brown Castiel had ever seen on someone. He wore black skinny jeans that were tucked into brown combat boots and a black, form fitting pea-coat with the collar popped up.

Before Castiel could even register that he was staring and tear his gaze away, the young man had caught his gaze and smirked at him.

Next thing Castiel knew, the stranger was stripping off his jacket and sliding into the booth beside him.

" _Est-ce un dictionnaire français?_ " The man's voice was smooth and deep and he licked his lips, tasting the salty rain water there, at the end of his sentence.

Blowing out his cheeks, Castiel racked his brain for the translation of what the man just said. Something about a Dictionary?

The confusion must have been evident on his face because the man laughed, and it was a sweet laugh, music to Castiel's ears.

The man placed his hand on the dictionary and scrunched up his face. In broken English, he tried to say, "Di- Dictionary? _Français dictionary?"_

With a wide grin, and a sudden realization, Castiel nodded, " _Oui! Je viens d'Amérique_." I'm from America. That much, he knew off by heart.

" _Alors, vous pouvez parler français?"_

This, once again, was a little too much for Castiel and he squinted at the man.

The dark brown eyes lit with an idea and the stranger gestured to Castiel's computer, a question in his eyes that read, "May I?"

For some reason, this man seemed trust worthy. Maybe Castiel shouldn't trust him, but he turned his laptop to face him either way.

As the man pulled the computer toward him and started punching the keyboard, he said, " _Mon nom est_ Loren"

This is something that Castiel did understand and he smiled as he replied, " _Je M'appel_ Castiel."

The clicking on the keyboard stopped and a smirk graced Loren's pink lips as he glanced over the laptop, " _Comme l'Ange?_ "

Loren turned the laptop around, and Castiel looked down at the screen. Google Translate was open, translating from French to English and the question Loren just asked Castiel was typed into it. It translates to the question, "Like the Angel?"

" _Oui._ " Answered Castiel, nodding.

Loren turned the laptop back around and typed in something else, pursing his lips in concentration. He turned it back to Castiel, and there was a sentence there, translated loosely to, "You do look like an Angel."

Instantly, Castiel turned bright red and his brain went completely blank. He fumbled for something to say as he averted his eyes and dipped his head down to hide his blush. His shaking, nervous fingers found his cup of coffee and he cleared his throat awkwardly as he took a sip, trying not to spill it all over himself.

With a satisfied laugh, Loren leaned back against his seat, and asked, " _Voulez-vous que je vous enseigne le français?_ " Then, he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips and tried to correct himself, "Er - I can learn you français?" his broken English was the most adorable thing Castiel had ever heard and he simply couldn't turn down that offer.

In his broken, self-taught French, Castiel laughed and replied, " _Oui, s'il vous plaît_ "

* * *

When Castiel brought this beautiful French man home to teach him how to speak French at three in the morning, he kind of knew that teaching was not going to happen.

 _What a great way to pick someone up_ , Castiel thought fondly.

They stumbled into the hotel room that Castiel paid off for a month and stripped off their soaking coats. The moment they kicked off their shoes, Loren looped his arm around Castiel's waist and pulled him flush against his body. Their hips fit together like puzzle pieces and Castiel's knees went weak instantly.

Loren drew close and his lips brushed Castiel's ear, his breath hot and ghosting down Castiel's neck as he asked, " _puis-je?_ "

_May I?_

" _S'il vous plaît_ "

The kiss that followed that was so hard and so passionate that Castiel nearly lost his balance. Loren's long fingers tangled into Castiel's hair and he slowly guided Castiel toward the wall, pushing him against it and pushing into him.

Before Castiel even knew what was happening, his arms were pinned above his head and he was gasping for breath as Loren bit down his neck to his collarbone. Hot, wet hickey's were trailing along his pale skin and with every one left, Castiel shivered and grew more needy for skin on skin and _more_.

"Bed. Now. Please."

Castiel couldn't even think straight, not with Loren's hips grinding into him or his lips against his skin. He definitely could not think enough to try to speak French.

Loren let go of Castiel's hands, his fingers trailing down his body and gripping his thighs. The man was lanky, and Castiel had no idea he was as strong as he was but Loren was hiking Castiel's legs up and wrapping them around his waist. He tilted his head back and welcomed Castiel's fingers in his hair, and the rough kiss that Castiel dragged him into. Turning around, Loren blindly made his way to the bed planted in the middle of the room.

When his knees bumped against the mattress, Loren pulled back from Castiel and smirked at him. Then, he dropped him on to the bed, and crawled on top of him, a predatory and lustful gleam in his dark brown eyes.

By the time Loren and Castiel fell asleep, naked and sweaty and curled around each other, it was almost five am. The sun was rising through the thinning clouds and the rain was easing up, the thunder fading away.

Castiel woke up at 11 am to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table. It was written in smooth cursive french, and there was a phone number at the very bottom.

_Je me suis amusé avec vous hier soir, mais je devais partir._

_Je ne voulais pas te réveiller, tu es belle quand tu dors._

_Restez en contact, je veux toujours vous apprendre le français._

With his heart leaping into his throat, Castiel pulled out his computer and translated the note Loren left him. His lips pursed in concentration and his eyes flickered between the paper and the computer screen and he leaned back in bed, slowly typing Loren's writing into Google Translate. It ended up loosely translating to: "I had fun with you last night, but I had to leave. I didn't want to wake you up, you're beautiful when you sleep. Stay in touch, I still want to teach you French."

He waited a day before texting him - trying to seem cool, not too needy and Loren replied in less than a minute.

In order to text Loren, Castiel would go to google translate on his phone, type in his text and copy and paste the translation to messages to text Loren. It was tedious but it was funny. He can barely speak French right now, let alone spell it all out. Learning a new language is hard.

Castiel only stayed in France for a month, but with Loren by his side, he was fluent in French and knew the city off by heart in no time.

He knew all the little cafe's across town, all the best clubs and he had the best beer of his life at this pub that looked like a run down shitty inn and was open til 4 am. Loren dragged him out every time he had the chance, introduced him to all his friends and never let him sleep longer than 5 hours with his bubbly personality and his need to always be doing something.

On the nights where it would storm drastically and lightning would pierce the sky every five minutes, Loren would show up at Castiel's hotel room at 2 am and ask him why the _hell_ he was still inside. He would throw Castiel's favourite jacket at him and lace their fingers together, dragging him out to dance through puddles and steal kisses with every rumbling thunder crack. They would always end up at that 24/7 diner that they first met at for a cup of hot chocolate and to sit in the same booth where everything started.

Eventually, Castiel started staying the nights at Loren's apartment, paying for a room at that 3 star hotel without even staying in it.

The end of the month came before either of them knew, and Castiel was sitting at a cafe somewhere downtown, looking up flights to his next destination and waiting for Loren to show up. He didn't mean too, but he developed feelings for the strange, beautiful, adventurous man and if he was going to be leaving, he was going to tell Loren face-to-face, not over text.

Loren asked him to stay, just a little longer. Sorrow laced his soothing voice as he told Castiel, "don't even worry about a hotel room, just stay with me."

Just a couple more days, he begged.

Just a couple more adventures, he whispered against Castiel's knuckles.

Just a couple more nights together, his caramel eyes pleaded.

How could Castiel deny him anything? He put off booking a flight and made Loren promise to help him figure out where to go next.

He stayed with Loren for four days and during those four days, he wrote a detailed email to his cousin, Gabriel about what he's been doing, the people he's met and the places he'd seen. Gabriel would be the only one to not overreact and get mad at him, now that he's been gone a month and he knows that for a fact - Gabriel has always been the most understanding. He kind of kept in contact with his brother, Jimmy, but he has yet to tell anyone about anything. Castiel had only finally decided to tell Gabriel because after this first month, he's already bursting to tell _someone_ about _everything_. 

After stumbling upon a couple of articles people wrote about their travels while trying to figure out where to go next, Castiel took his detailed email that he wrote to Gabriel, coupled it with a shit ton of pictures, and decided to start his own blog. Loren, being the creative little minx he is, designed the entirety of Castiel's blog, telling him that this was a great idea, that pale blue is the perfect colour for a travelling blog, that he'll be Castiel's #1 fan, checking up with the blog everyday.

Loren accompanied Castiel to the airport after those four days to see him off.

With a loud, deep kiss, Loren made Castiel promise to keep in touch.

" _C'était le meilleur mois de ma vie_ " Castiel's French was no longer broken. 'This was the best month of my life' rolled off his tongue easily as he kissed Loren goodbye.

Loren grinned, ear to ear, his chest swelling with pride at Castiel's progress and he kissed the tip of his nose, " _Revenez à moi, mon ange._ "

_Come back to me, my angel._

Castiel boarded his plane with a promise of "I will" and made his way to Moscow, Russia.


	4. Moscow, Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off Bert Kreischer's story about befriending the Russian mafia???? im not sorry that was fucking funny shit. this is really short though, so im sorry for that.  
> also  
> cue castiel having a huge alcohol tolerance.

It started late one night while heading back to his motel room.

Castiel was sitting alone in the middle of one of the passenger cars on the train, his nose buried in a beginners book for learning Russian.

So far, he had been in Moscow for just over a week and the only sentence he had managed to learn properly was, "Hi! My name is Castiel. I work with cats." Which sounded a lot like, "I work pussy." No matter how he phrased it, it just sounded like, "I fuck cats." So, he'll never be saying that.

The train pulled up to his stop near his shitty 3 star motel that he was staying in and before he got off the train, he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the scenery. The book on his lap, the sun setting through the window, the empty train car. It was an eerie picture, beautifully barren.

Walking to his motel was as eerie and cold as the picture he just took, with it getting steadily darker as time passed. The pavement was hard under his feet and the air light in his lungs. He felt truly free, like a baby bird just learning how to fly.

As he pulled out his key card for his motel room, the door to the room beside his opened and he stopped in his path at the grunt he heard coming from the doorway.

Castiel looked up and standing right there, to his left, was a real Russian gangster. Wife-beater, gold chain, track pants, tattoos, and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

This gangster was staring at him, his eyebrows drawn together like he was waiting for Castiel to say something but Castiel only knew one fucking sentence. He doesn't know the language, what is he supposed to do?

Now, Castiel was just awkwardly staring at this guy, knowing he probably has a gun tucked into the waistband of those track pants and he's trying to make his mouth work.

The gangster narrowed his eyes and looked Castiel up and down. Castiel, this posh fuck from a small town in Kansas who went to college and has a man purse. In a gruff voice, the gangster barked out, "что?"

_What?_

And it kicked Castiel back to reality.

He panicked, not knowing what to say really when faced with a Russian Gangster and the first words that fall from his lips were "я машина."

How he even knew what "I am the machine" was in Russian baffled him, but he said it, eyes wide and fearful, and this gangster started  _laughing_.

"The fuck did you just say?" the gangster replied in Russian, pulling the cigarette from his lips and ashing it.

Castiel kind of straightened up, a bit more confident from making this gangster laugh, and thought _fuck it._ Even though he had no idea what the guy just said to him, he's just going to go for it now.

"я машина!"

_I'm the machine!_

This gangster took a step forward and put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, grip tight and tossed his cigarette with his other hand. Still laughing, he pulled Castiel toward his motel room and brought him inside. Instantly, Castiel smelled nothing but strong cigarette smoke and he got an eye full of dozens of liquor bottles, some brand new, some empty. Some in the hands of 9 other Russian gangsters which are pouring out shots of vodka and gin.

The gangster that Castiel was talking too dropped his hand from his shoulder and just yelled out, "СТОП."

All of the men in the room stop and look over to Castiel and the gangster by his side. All of them are burning holes into Castiel with their eyes.

This gangster looked at Castiel, a sly smile on his face and demanded, "скажите им, что вы сказали." _Tell them what you said._

At this point, Castiel doesn't fucking care. His brain was working over time to try and translate what this gangster was saying to him, and there are 9 more in this shitty motel room, loaded up on alcohol with firearms all over the place and he muses to himself, " _Traveling is for new experiences, right?_ "

So, Castiel looked at all of the intimidating Mafia members, and grinned, "я машина!"

Confusion shadowed over all of them for a moment as they glanced toward their friend and back to Castiel. Then, slowly, they all started laughing. One of the gangsters who was pouring out a shot of vodka slammed the bottle down onto the table, picked up his shot glass and yelled out, "Hell yeah, he is!" and downed his shot like it was water.

If Castiel knew beforehand that his motel neighbors were going to be apart of the Russian Mafia... Well, he wouldn't have changed a damn thing. That night, he stayed with them until 4 am, just drinking.

They _really_ only loved him because Castiel went shot for shot with them all fucking night.

All of them even admitted to rarely seeing someone who could consume as much alcohol as Castiel.

But, still, the only thing Castiel knew how to say in their language was "I'm the machine!" and they loved him even more for that.

* * *

 

After almost two months straight of hanging out with these guys, Castiel had done insane things. Things he never even dreamed about, like stealing a boat, trafficking drugs and firearms, extortion and the conclusion of some scam they had been working on which profited them thousands. Castiel's conscience took quite a toll during this experience but at least he didn't have to take part in murder, or watch them murder someone. He could barely handle what they're doing already.

Eventually, Castiel decided it was time to move on.

He had other places he wanted to see, other memories to make.

Igor, that first gangster he met two months ago, drove him to the train station to see him off. He decided that if he doesn't have to take a plane every single time, then he'll seize that opportunity. Planes are boring and make his stomach churn.

As Igor and Castiel wander through the train station, Igor pulled Castiel over to two guys who were dressed in a similar fashion as him. Igor began to explain that different parts of Russia have different branches of the Mafia and he wanted to introduce Castiel to more gangsters.

They walked up to these guys, and Igor gestured to Castiel and said in gruff Russian to these other gangsters, "This is the Machine. Give the Machine vodka, and you'll have good time."

They both sprouted big grins and looked at each other, eager to learn how good of a time they'll have.

As people begin to board the train, Castiel bid Igor a goodbye, told him to stay in touch. Before he could get to far, though, one of the new Gangsters, Anton, grabbed Castiel and looked at him like he had absolutely lost his mind.

"The Machine sits in first class with us." he scoffed and Igor had the biggest grin on his face as he waved off his American friend.

Within a few hours of the train ride, they drank all the booze in first class and Anton looked over to Castiel and said, "нам нужно больше водки."

_We need more vodka._

Before Castiel even knew what he was saying, he looked at Anton with a big grin and blurted out, "I understood that!"

"Good for you, Machine!" Anton laughed as he got up with Castiel to go to the bar cart.

(He later had to explain that he didn't know a single fucking word of Russian for the longest time.)

Castiel had to leave the part of him and Anton robbing the bar cart out of his blog post, because while he was taking the vodka, Anton also demanded that he take all the money too. He had done enough shit with Igor prior to this that it didn't even really phase him - he was just ecstatic over the fact that he understood Anton when he demanded he steal the money. Yelling from behind the bar like, "Anton! Anton, I understood that too! What the fuck?!"

He learned French at the hands of a pretty boy he met in a diner.

He learned Russian by befriending the Mafia.

By the time he got to the next country that he wanted to visit, he was glad to be rid of Russia. It was an experience, befriending those gangsters, sure, but what he did with them was so out of character for him that if he thought to hard about it, he felt like he was going to puke.

In the moment, while with Igor and Anton, his conscience numbed out the part of him that told him it all that was bad idea because, to be honest, he was scared to say no to them, but now it's just a huge weight off his shoulders. He can go back to being him.

And being Castiel involved suddenly having someone offering to sponsor his blog and pay for his trips as long as he keeps making posts the way he was. He didn't even noticed that his blog got that popular.

Naturally, he took that offer and got a room at a 5 star hotel in Berlin, Germany.


	5. Berlin, Germany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god im so sorry for how short these are getting i'll make it up to you i pro mi s e

Castiel was tired and hungry and very annoyed when he stumbled into a bar somewhere in Berlin a day after arriving.

He had a foreign map in one hand and his phone was dead in the other.

The bartender looked at him with poorly covered curiosity and waved him over. As Castiel plopped his tired body into a bar stool, the bartender began to speak in fluent German and poured him a glass of water.

With a headache developing, Castiel sucked in a breath through his teeth and crossed his arms on the bar top, leaning forward. Instantly, the bartender recognized that Castiel couldn't understand him and narrowed his eyes at the American. Gears were turning behind the green eyes of the older man and he stumbled over the word, "Tourist?" in broken English.

"Ja." _Yes_. That was the beginning and the end of the words Castiel knew in German.

_"Hat verloren?"_

Castiel looked upon the bartender with a pained expression and gestured to his map, "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you just said."

In a thick German accent, in broken English, a voice came from behind Castiel, "He asked 'you are lost?'"

Spinning around in his chair, Castiel came face to face with a small blonde women. She looked in her late twenties, with a thin pair of glasses sitting atop her nose and brought attention to her blue eyes. Thick blonde hair was framing her pale face and she smiled at Castiel, this gentle, little smile, "I am school teacher for English."

A wide grin broke across Castiel's face and all the tension melted from his shoulders, "So, you can speak English." He mumbled, thinking that she must be an angel.

The small women nodded, "Yes. And you are lost."

"Very much so." There was defeat evident in Castiel's voice and the teacher hopped onto the chair beside him, her hair bouncing around her shoulders with her gracefully movements. She planted a hand down on the map that Castiel had left on the counter top and pulled it towards her.

As this woman pulled open the map and sprawled it out, she glanced long and hard at Castiel through the corner of her eyes. Her lips where pursed and gears were turning in her mind, behind her eyes, as she tried to think of the proper English words for things she wanted to say.

Eventually, she settled for introducing herself, "I am Leni."

Her words were slow as she tried to translate as she spoke - they poured out of her pink mouth like melted caramel - sweet, steady and calming, "You are looking for hotel?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

Castiel blew out his cheeks, staring at Leni with a searching look in his eyes. The answer was right there, on the tip of his tongue. He could fucking taste it, for God's sake but it just wasn't coming to him. Probably because he can't fucking speak the language? Can't pronounce the name of the hotel? When it finally dawned on him, he spat it out in broken German, stuttering and blushing at his poor attempt, "Zimmervermietung Härtig"

Leni's tongue got stuck between her teeth as she glanced between Castiel and the map. She was trying her hardest not to laugh as she mumbled out in broken English, "That is other side of city."

"Fuck." The word escaped from Castiel's mouth on an exasperated sigh.

A smile tugged at the corner of Leni's mouth and she tucked her hair behind one ear. Her nimble fingers played with the laminated paper of the map she was observing and she started to slowly fold it up as she offered to drive Castiel down to his hotel.

Leni's legs wrapped around Castiel's waist as he shoved her against his hotel door, effectively shutting it.

Her glasses were pushed up into her hair and her fingers were digging into Castiel's shoulders as he started trailing sloppy kisses down her neck.

Eventually, Castiel's knees hit the edge of his bed and they fell onto it in a mess of sweat and limbs and clothes.

The next morning, Leni was already long gone before Castiel even woke up, her side of the bed already cold.

Castiel found he really didn't care.

He forgot her name quickly, and never thought of her again.

* * *

 

His second night in Berlin, Castiel went to a famous club, where he met a group of guys that didn't seem that sketchy.

They turned out to be drug dealers.

In the shitty bathroom of a loud, sweaty club, Castiel did speed for the first time and blacked out for the rest of the night.

Coming to on the bathroom floor of the hotel room he was staying in was impressive to the blue-eyed man, seeing as he had no recollection of the previous night, therefore no memory of how he got home. Somewhere in his drug induced mind, he must've thought, "Man, I need to sleep."

Did he walk? Cab? Steal a bike? Did one of those drug dealers bring him back?

You know what? He's not going to overthink it. He's in familiar territory and he's puking in a toilet, so how he got home is literally the least of his worries.

Despite the intense, head rocking hangover Castiel was enduring, he pulled out his laptop and squinted at the bright screen that hurt him to his very core. What he really needed to do now, besides stay right beside the toilet, was start off his Berlin blog post with his first drug-related experience.

He found his way back to another club later that night, snorting two lines of coke ( _it's pretty much speed, you'll be fine_ ) in a grubby bathroom with writing on the walls and mold in the corners. He didn't black out this time, and found himself wanting to stay in Berlin longer than planned.

This was going to become a problem.

* * *

 

Berlin didn't last long, because the amount of drugs Castiel suddenly found himself doing was terrifying him.

He booked himself another flight, finished off his article, packed his bags for the next day and went out one last time in the streets of Berlin.

He never intended to get addicted to drugs. He never thought he'd enjoy the clubbing scene.

Travelling is for new experiences, though. Right?

Something broke inside of Castiel as he snorted his fifth line of coke for the night, and he realized leaving is exactly what he needed to do. Find a new town, find a new part of himself, leave this version behind.

He should've just stuck to what he knows. Caffeine and alcohol.

( _Just one more drink_ is a lot better than _one more line_ )

But Castiel's first and foremost addiction is travelling, and as he boards his plane, he shakes off Germany and breathes in deeply. He steadies his shaking hands, and forgets about the clubs and the noise, the rushes and the colours. He steadies his shaking hands and remembers who he is. He steadies his shaking hands and posts another article on his blog.

As his plane takes off, his mind finally settles.

He's going to Rome.


End file.
